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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24812356">Don x Reader Fanfiction</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alternalt/pseuds/Alternalt'>Alternalt</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Room of Swords (Webcomic)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Badly Written, Multi, not sexy</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 02:08:34</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>973</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24812356</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alternalt/pseuds/Alternalt</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Kinda self explanatory. Ahaha. Ahaha. I tried to keep Don consistent, but obviously I have to bend it if I want this fic uwu<br/>How does Spanish work? I dunno</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Don Santiago/Reader</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>13</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Don x Reader Fanfiction</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>You turn to the whistles of the old harmonica. You can’t help it. The reeds are so familiar, but every new puff of air is magical. He puts down his instrument, and looks up to you. Don Santiago. Confined to a wheelchair, yet his music is so flowing and free that you can almost feel him next to you. </p><p> </p><p>“Amigo, is something wrong? I was just… taking out some trash, and you stopped writing.” <br/>(Amigo - bitch, in Spanish)</p><p> </p><p>You take the crinkling leaves of your notebook and slam your Don x Reader fanfic shut. You then take your pencil and snap the wood in half, and after throwing the pieces onto the floor, you take a deep breath and smile back at Don.</p><p> </p><p>“No, no,” you say, in Spanish, so Don understands, “nothing is wrong. Just… taking out some trash like you said!”<br/>(No - no, in Spanish)</p><p> </p><p>You take your notebook in your hands and throw it across the room at Yumeji, another piece of trash. However, the whistling harmonica sounds behind you and captures the fanfic, carrying it back to Don.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m sure this isn’t trash at all. Have more faith in yourself, amigo!”</p><p> </p><p>Enchanted by his rich voice, you are too late to beg him to shut his eyes, he flips the pages apart.<br/><br/></p><hr/><p>Don, sexy and absolutely charming, grasps your hands in his own large, yet tender hands. His mustache is neatly trimmed, and his hair is combed back.</p><p> </p><p>“Don’t worry,” he says beautifully, “I know how to treat lovely instruments with care.”</p><p> </p><p>He pulls you into his big, strong arms, and you fall onto his lap. The soft fabric of his shirt cushions you, and so do his rock hard abs. Close to his face, you can smell the aftershave. It’s warm in his embrace, but you push yourself off of his meaty muscles.</p><p> </p><p>“D-Don! We shouldn’t do this!” </p><p> </p><p>You sputter helplessly, lying to yourself. You can remember holding yourself back for months. Every time you looked at him, you told yourself that it was wrong, and that he would never love you. And now you can’t seem to find the words you want.</p><p> </p><p>He lowers your chin to look him in the eyes, since he’s shorter, and in those sexy pupils you can see care and love.</p><p> </p><p>“I don’t want to hurt you. If you don’t want to do this…”</p><p> </p><p>You gasp. Nothing gets you more excited than asking for consent. And it hits you like a large boulder. You. Want. Him.</p><p> </p><p>“Yes. I do-“</p><p> </p><p>But before you can continue, what you thought was Don being excited to see you was actually his radio, and it buzzes.</p><p> </p><p>“Oh, I’m sorry. I have to go take care of something. Maybe we can continue this later?”</p><p> </p><p>He turns around, and slowly wheels himself down the hallway. After he takes 5 minutes to turn his wheelchair around the corner, you collapse on the floor, panting heavily. You then eat several graham crackers.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>You look away as Don finishes reading your incomplete fanfic, and raises his head to stare at you. His gaze bores into the back of your head, and your cheeks burn hot.</p><p> </p><p>“... What the fresh fuck is this.”</p><p> </p><p>You turn to Don, but unable to meet his eyes, you stare down at his sausage legs. You see his wheels turning, and he comes closer.</p><p> </p><p>“Explain.”</p><p> </p><p>“W-Well, I-I was experimenting! P-Polishing up my writing… for missions…?”</p><p> </p><p>Don puts away his harmonica. He holds up your notebook, and sighs. He shakes his head in Spanish.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m not angry, just disappointed.”</p><p> </p><p>Your mind is running wild, you can’t focus on a single issue, and you’re having trouble forming words. Your mouth dries up, salivating over Don has been replaced with emptiness. Stumbling over your words in an incoherent mess, Don merely shakes his head again and pulls out his guitar.</p><p> </p><p>“I suppose I’ll just have to do something about this.”</p><p> </p><p>As you meet his gaze, you see that he’s smiling.</p><p> </p><p>“Wow, as it turns out, I have something scheduled… right now!”</p><p> </p><p>You look down at your bare wrist in place of a watch, but when you turn to the door, there are no more doors. Don’s guitar fills the room with sweet music, his fingers gliding across the strings. He sings lyrics in Spanish so I don’t have to think of a song.</p><p> </p><p>“Si si si si amigo amigo taco,” he sings probably, you really can’t tell. <br/>(Taco - some sort of food, maybe, in Spanish)</p><p> </p><p>You back away, but the doors turned walls begin to close in on you, and you’re forced closer to Don. The ceiling lowers too, and you have to begin to bend down. The lights flicker and turn off, and all you can feel is Don’s voice against your face and the cold stone of the room. The guitar stops.</p><p> </p><p>“I can’t believe you would write something like that. I expected better of you.”</p><p> </p><p>“I can explai-“</p><p> </p><p>A finger presses against your lips, and you stop talking.</p><p> </p><p>“Shh. You characterized me all wrong.”</p><p> </p><p>His hand moves down, grabs your shirt and pulls you down to him. His arms wrap around you and pull you close to him. Your mind is racing, this is just like your fanfic, all your dreams are coming true!</p><p> </p><p>“I would never leave you if you told me something like that.”</p><p> </p><p>You gasp in Spanish, so that Don understands better. </p><p> </p><p>“You mean…”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes.”</p><p> </p><p>You feel his arms lift off of you, and you relax on him. His sweet harmonica begins blowing, and on cue the room around you begins to rumble. You raise an arm to feel the ceiling receding, and you start standing back up.</p><p> </p><p>“So what would you do to me instead?”</p><p> </p><p>Don pauses his playing to answer.</p><p> </p><p>“I’d kill you.”</p><p> </p><p>And the sweet tones of the old harmonica start playing again.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>So that’s my fic. Funnily enough, I can hear someone playing guitar. Ooh, the lights are flickering, but the rumbling must be normahsgnsnxkskanansjsnsjsk</p></blockquote></div></div>
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